


The Dragon’s Heart

by Cornerofmadness



Series: Perceptions of the Fifth Sun [4]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Believing Angel to be dead after the attack at Wolfram and Hart, Connor goes to the Cleveland hellmouth hoping to run into Faith. Instead he finds himself on the trail of a God-King





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** \-- Whedon owns all
> 
>  **Timeline** \-- Post Angel season 5
> 
>  **Warning** \--Implied, on page rape
> 
>  **Author’s Note** \--This was a WIP languishing on my hard drive and was finished for Wipbigbang’s 2019 International FanWorks Day challenge. It’s technically story four in the Perceptions of the Fifth Sun series. It’s technically standalone but if you want to read the rest this will be linked to them. All you need to know is this is an alternative reality from the Angel comics (as they didn’t exist when I started the series) where Angel believes Connor and all of his friends are dead and is letting the world believe he’s dead. Spike went after Illyria to bring her back into the fold and Wolfram and Hart has lied to the world to make the think that Buffy and the rest of the Slayers refused to help Los Angeles and have allowed hell to open up on world. At this point everyone knows demons are real.

Chapter One

Connor rubbed his aching shoulder. The dragon had done a number on him, damn near taking his arm off. He’d proven a bit too difficult to eat, and her eye too unarmored to keep her alive once she had dropped him and settled in to eat him. She really should have made sure he had lost his sword. Well, there probably hadn’t been much in the way of brains behind the eyeball he’d skewered, but she had been a glorious creature in her way.

She had carried him nearly to Seattle before trying to make him into Dragon Chow. Afterwards, half frozen and suffering a mix of altitude sickness and blood loss vertigo, Connor had staggered into a hospital. As he recovered there for a few days, he watched the news out of L.A. He sneaked out of the hospital and made his way back home, mostly by grabbing onto eighteen wheelers and hitching a ride that way because he had lost his wallet and phone. He couldn’t call either father to check with them. He’d gotten back to L.A. in time to talk to the police as to where he was when the Reilleys were dying in the attack. 

God it hurt. He knew his feelings for them were manufactured, the remnants of a spell, but they felt so real. He’d wept in the daylight hours, and at night he went off looking for Angel and the rest. Eventually that added to the sea of salt pouring out of him. Angel was dead. They all were except maybe for Spike and Illyria. His dad would never know that Connor had forgiven him and wanted forgiveness in return. He’d never hear ‘I love you Dad.’ Connor had let it go too long. Maybe showing up to fight had said it all for him. He could only hope. Had Angel panicked seeing him being hauled away by the dragon? Had that distracted him and resulted in his death? Connor would never know, and that made him ache.

Finally, he heard of a Hellmouth in Cleveland, and that a Slayer ought to show up to deal with it. Connor, now possessing all of the Reilley’s money, had closed up their house and headed to Cleveland. He hadn’t wanted to sell the home just yet because it was paid off, and he might need a place to live when all was said and done. He’d handle utilities and taxes until he made a final choice. He’d taken a medical withdrawal from Stanford. No one even looked into his records and what happened in L.A. was world news. The fact he had lost his sister and parents in one night made sure no one was going to question that he had some mental trauma to work through.

He hoped that Faith would be in Cleveland, maybe Willow too. He didn’t know if they would remember him or not. He’d reintroduce himself if they didn’t. He had no idea where Spike or Illyria might have gone, if in fact they had survived. He hadn’t known what the hell had happened to Fred to turn her into Illyria but the brief moments doing battle at her side unsettled him. Even her scent was changed. Whatever Illyria was, she wasn’t Fred any more. Connor wasn’t sure he wanted to meet up with her again. Spike was a mystery too, obviously a vampire, one his father knew and trusted, which was bizarre.

He rubbed his aching shoulder again as he stepped into a Cleveland demon bar. He’d healed but the shoulder liked to remind him he wasn’t forgiven for nearly getting it torn off. The bar quieted, eyes turning to him. Connor hated this moment when he entered a demon bar. He wanted them all dead. Demons had poured into this world through the rift – now closed – in Los Angeles and he saw it as his job to kill them all. On the other hand, he needed information, and it was to his disadvantage to look so very small, frail, so human. They saw him as food or as a play toy.

“You’re in the wrong bar, buddy,” one of them, a Fyarl demon, snarled. It sauntered over to intimidate him or maybe it wanted to beat him to death immediately.

Using his good arm, Connor caught the thing by its voice box, lifting it off its feet and dragged it close. “I’m right where I want to be.” He tossed the Fyarl aside and braced for attack. 

The thing coughed and rubbed its neck. “You don’t smell like a vampire,” it said, eyeing him as if that was the only sort of demon that could take human form.

“I’m not. I’m Quor-Tothian. They call me the Destroyer.” He gave it his best feral grin – the one that always freaked out Gunn – and hoped it would do the job. A path opened up to the bar as things got the hell out of his way. Mentions of Quor-Toth usually had that effect. He bellied up to the padded rail.

“What can I get you?” A strange creature like a spotted salamander asked as it washed out a bar glass.

“What do you have in a can?” Connor suspected this thing would leave a slimy residue on whatever it touched. He didn’t want to risk drinking from a glass.

He settled for a can of Bud Light. He had a taste for good beer; Bud was not good beer but not drinking would be worse here. He’d stand out more.

“We don’t get many Quor-Tothians here,” it said needlessly. Nothing from Quor-Toth went anywhere else. “What brings you here?’

“I was hoping people could answer a question for me. I heard a Slayer was here at the Hellmouth. Since I’d love to avoid her, I was wondering if it was true, and if so, where she stalks.”

Salamander plopped the beer in front of Connor. “She was. Heard she left just before the God-King arrived.”

Connor schooled the disappointment off his face. He’d have to keep looking for Faith elsewhere. “God-King?” There was something familiar about that title.

Salamander shrugged. “Big blue haired chick. No one crosses her. Even a Quor-Tothian would be wise to do the same.”

“Listen to him,” a wrinkly creature seated next to Connor said. “I tried to warn my friend, Spike, but he never listens. He swore he knew her and went looking. Now he’s been gone for months.”

Connor widened his eyes. “Spike? I know him.” It was a stretch. Connor had seem him and Illyria – who definitely matched the description of the God-King and maybe she had called herself that during the battle. Back when he hadn’t known himself, he’d met them for the first time, and he’d been lucky to not have gotten a boner watching Illyria and Spike spar when Angel had escorted him around Wolfram and Hart. God, how embarrassing would that have been? He had even told his dad he had always liked older women and heard him mutter ‘they were supposed to fix that.’ Asshole, he should be allowed to be attracted to whoever he felt like. He didn’t need fixing. Later, realizing Illyria was Fred somehow, he’d been horrified by the attraction. Spike, however, had fought well and hard during the battle. Connor admired that even if the thing was a vampire.

The bloodhound-like man eyed him suspiciously. “Really?”

“In L.A. when he was working with Angel. So, he just disappeared?”

Bloodhound nodded, his frown deepening his wrinkles. “He went to find her and that was the last anyone saw of Spike. I heard Angel was dust now.”

“Yeah, so I heard. Hmmm, unfortunate about Spike. Hey, can I buy you a drink because I have questions I want to ask if you don’t mind?”

“I’m not easy about talking about the god-king but all right. I’m Clem by the way.”

“Steven Holtz.” The name simply popped out. He hadn’t intended it but maybe it was better that way. Angel had enemies, and some might know the name Connor. Being Angel’s kid had no end of issues, the least of which was Angel’s enemies coming after him to make Angel suffer. “Nice to meet you, Clem.”

“Same here. These places don’t have a lot of friendly faces, mostly a bunch of fools trying to assert dominance.” Clem turned to the Salamander. “Another G and T.”

Connor tried to look abashed. “Yeah, sorry about my own display there. I had to do it. When you look as human as I do, you’re always proving yourself.” Connor unconsciously fingered the pendant he wore. It was a shimmering blue orb that flashed fiery colors when bright light hit it. When the dragon turned to a fine powder, the orb had been left behind. He’d managed to hold onto it in spite of his pain, and eventually he’d taken it to a craft shop and gotten silver wire to twist around it so he could suspend it. He’d done it partly because it was beautiful and partly because hell had been unleashed on Earth, and he felt the need to showcase his kills again as a warning and hopefully avoid entanglements.

Clem snorted as Salamander slid the drink in front of him. “He obviously didn’t see the dragon heart you’re wearing. Or did you find that somewhere?”

“Nah, I killed her. I almost regretted it. She was magnificent.” Oddly enough that was true.

“I saw them on the news clips out of L.A.”

“That’s where she got me, gave me some nice scars to remember her by.” He rubbed his shoulder. The scars were already fading. Soon he’d look pristine if his past was anything to go by. He wondered if he got a tattoo would his body deal with the ink in the same way. He wanted to find out. Irrationally he wanted to do so this instant, mark right over the shoulder she had nearly ruined. Maybe he’d do it.

“You’re obviously tough, Steven. Not sure you’re tough enough to take on a God-King. Take the advice I gave Spike. Leave her be.”

Connor knocked back some beer. “Maybe I can’t. Did Spike think he could take this king on?”

Clem shook his head, his dewlaps flapping like a hound dog. “No. He was sure it was someone that he knew named Illyria. He wanted to talk to her. He never came back.”

“Do you know where he went looking?”

“The west side. I can tell you the exact apartment complex but are you sure you want to know. Your plan of avoiding the Slayers is a good one. Might want to extend it to Illyria.” Clem’s lips thinned. “Though I knew a Slayer once. She wasn’t all that bad, had a live and let live policy if you weren’t the dangerous sort of demon.”

“I’m assuming you’re in that category.”

Clem shrugged. “I have no overwhelming urge to hurt humans.”

“Me either. I find them rather attractive, if you know what I mean.”

Clem snorted. “Well, you look like one so I can understand that.”

They talked more about the Slayer who didn’t sound like Faith, and no one knew if the Cleveland slayer had run off or had died. Connor had seen Lilah – that insufferable bitch, should have separated her from her head when he had the chance – whipping up anti-Slayer sentiment on the news. Could be the Slayer was killed by a human out for revenge. Either way the Cleveland slayer had been a blonde so probably not Faith, and not Buffy either since Clem would have known her. He’d seen both women on the news. Apparently this Buffy had been friends with Spike, which was mind boggling but if Spike had fought with Angel and the others, then maybe he was one of the good ones like Angel swore he himself was.

In the end, Clem invited Connor back to his apartment since he had no place to stay yet. He offered him Spike’s room, which he hadn’t rented out yet in hopes his friend would return in spite of the months that had gone by. Connor reluctantly took it because he didn’t think Clem was a threat. He just hoped he didn’t wake up with the creature standing over him full of magic or venoms he couldn’t combat.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He’d been in Cleveland for a month, looking for another Slayer, tracking them the best he could on the news and on the internet. Connor spent a lot of time researching Illyria as well. Spike, from listening to Clem with whom he was still rooming, was a hell of a fighter so if she took him down, Connor didn’t want to charge in there halfcocked and get killed. He’d learned that lesson with the Beast. 

Surprisingly, Clem wasn’t all that bad. Connor wondered if he and Lorne – who Clem reminded him of a bit in how non-dangerous he seemed – were more interdimensional beings than truly demonic. He was proud of himself that he could make that distinction. Clem had tried to talk him out of coming to the Lakewood to look for Illyria but like Spike, he knew he had to do it. No Slayer seemed to be returning to Cleveland and the God-King had everyone afraid. He didn’t know if he could take on Illyria, but Connor realized he had gone as far as he could with gleaning information from the demon world. He needed to do his own recon.

He rubbed his shoulder as he stared up at the once luxurious condo high rise. His arm didn’t hurt anymore, and yet, occasionally it twinged as if to remind him he wasn’t indestructible. He had died once already, and he had no one to bring him back this time. The thought of ‘who cares?’ echoed in his head. He scowled at it. Suicide was a sin. Between Holtz’s upbringing and the Catholicness of his rewritten and oh so very Irish history, Connor knew that to be so. He wasn’t sure, however, if he entirely believed it. Some people found themselves in a place of pain too big to bear. Would God – if he existed - want people to suffer? For him an equally important question was if there was a God would he want a creature like Connor, because he knew in spite of his soul he had not seen a heaven or hell that he could remember in his brief time as dead. And this wasn’t suicide. If Illyria killed him, he was going out like he lived, and no one would even know. Only Willow and Faith – if they remembered him now that the spell was broken – even knew he existed. 

Clem might miss him, and how odd was that thought? Connor rubbed his arm again. He had tattooed the dragon scars over. From mid-biceps up to his scarred – now completely faded – shoulder, he had Celtic knot work that encircled his arm and embodied the dragon. Her face and wing graced his shoulder. The black of the knot work was broken by brilliant blue for her eye and a little round blue ‘heart’ in her center. Connor felt it was a fitting tribute for one of the most impressive things he had to destroy, and suspected Angel would have approved of the Irishness of the design. Dads two and three would not have approved a tattoo period but he didn’t care. All three of his fathers were dead, and he was free to do as he will.

Connor didn’t have to sneak into the high rise. The door was unguarded. He figured anything smart enough to know Illyria was inside was smart enough not to follow her in. And if you weren’t smart enough, you got what you deserved. Connor had picked up a semi-automatic pistol and some spare clips. It wasn’t his usual weapon but if half of what he had heard about the God-King was true, he didn’t want to face her hand to hand. He had his sword as well. He remembered Illyria tossing Spike like a ragdoll, and he knew beating up a vampire wasn’t that easy. He had to be prepared. He even had a water pistol of holy water with him. He didn’t know if she would be susceptible to it but better to have it than not. If Spike was on her side, he knew that would trouble the vampire.

Eerie silence pressed on him as Connor made his way through the building. He could smell Illyria. He remembered her scent and tracked it up to the penthouse but it was empty. Maybe she was out. That might be lucky for him in a way. He poked about her dwelling but it offered no clues at all to her plans, and he certainly didn’t expect for her to have information on how to destroy her just lying around.

Connor followed his nose down toward the basement, the only other part of the vast structure where her scent seemed strong. Something else underlay it, strengthening the closer he got to the basement. Spike, he was fairly sure of it. There had been none of the vampire’s scent in the penthouse so why was it here? Could it be they weren’t working together? Could he have been missing all this time because Illyria had captured him? Connor reasoned once you put a vampire in a cage, it had trouble escaping. He’d witnessed that himself twice now with Angel.

He passed abandoned work out rooms and the laundry for the former tenants. Finally, in one room whose original purpose he couldn’t have guessed at, Connor uncovered his answers. Cages lined the back wall, all empty except for one. Spike’s eyes widened when he spotted Connor. Connor widened his own eyes seeing Spike was buck naked. 

“Bloody hell. You were there in California, with Angel,” he said.

Connor nodded. “Yeah. You were too. Guess you’re not working with Illyria after all.”

“Barmy bint. You have to get me out of here.” Spike rattled the heavy cage door.

“I’m open to suggestions. If you’re not strong enough to force it, I might not be either.”

Spike snorted. “You, kid? You look like a strong breeze would blow you away. No, she keeps the key over there.” He gestured to an empty book case built into one wall.

Connor retrieved the key. “Why does she have you in here?”

“She got used to me and my advice back at Wolfram and Hart. I think she…kid, move!” Spike bellowed.

Before Connor could turn around, he was shoved face first into the bars. He lost the key. The skin of his forehead split open from the force Illyria had hit him with. How had he not heard her? Blood poured down his face from the head wound as Illyria picked him up by his neck. She cocked her head to the side, studying him with eyes a frigid arctic blue. 

“You are not human.”

Connor kicked her in the gut making her stumble back. She dropped him.

“He’s not? He smells human,” Spike said.

“I’m mostly human.” Connor pulled his gun and shot the entire clip at her. 

Illyria dodged and wove, and if anything hit her, it didn’t show. Connor knew he couldn’t possibly have missed every shot but whatever Illyria was, she wasn’t human enough to be bothered by bullets. He drew his sword and lunged for her. She evaded his swings before grabbing the back of the sword snapping it. Swearing, Connor punched Illyria but she caught his arm and flung him into a cage so hard the door bent. He slipped to the floor momentarily stunned.

“This shell remembers you. You are Angel’s spawn.” Illyria whirled on Spike. “You said vampires couldn’t breed.”

“We can’t! You have to be reading Fred’s memory wrong,” Spike replied. “Leave the kid alone, Blue. You don’t want to kill him.”

“He would have freed you.” Illyria whipped back around meeting Connor’s charge. He struck her hard enough in the face to drive her back but as he was wiping blood from his eyes, she kicked him across the room, cracking dry wall. 

Connor forced himself up, wondering if he could get to the door. A retreat might be in order. Illyria hit nearly as hard as the Beast. This was not a job for one person. No wonder why Spike had never returned. He raced for the door but Illyria was somehow suddenly there. He hadn’t even seen her move. His last ditch effort with the holy water had no effect. His kick missed her but her strike between his legs took him to his knees, breathless.

Illyria ensnared his hair, dragging him up to his feet. She shifted her grip to his wrists, shoving him against the wall. Her eyes bore into his, her face so close he could feel her breath. “I can see into you. You were a demon lord yourself. You ruled Quor-Toth. You would be acceptable as father to my child.”

Connor growled and bit her in the face since it was so available. No one was making him father another hell god. He couldn’t go through that again. Her blood tasted bitter, and Illyria kicked him to the ground. She tromped on his head before he could get up. Connor’s vision went black. She hauled him by his ankle into a cage. He must have blacked out because the next thing he was aware of, she was ripping his clothing off.

Snarling, Connor punched, kicked, clawed and bit Illyria but he couldn’t get her off of him. She smashed his head against the bars and into the flooring again and again. Spike’s voice rang in his ears. “Don’t fight her, kid. Don’t fight. She’ll kill you.” Connor didn’t listen nor did he win. He fought until he was too groggy to control his limbs. His consciousness swam in and out. He felt her hands on him, moving all over his body. Were there tentacles? He could have sworn there were. God, where did the tentacles go? Something prodded and invaded his body.

By the time he could make sense of anything happening around him, Illyria was gone. His head ached so badly, even moving slightly threatened to cause vomiting. Bruises stood out everywhere especially on his hips. He could smell her all over him, and he was sticky with blood and he didn’t want to think about what else. The only thing Illyria had left him was his dragon heart pendant.

“You back with us, kid?”

“Connor,” he muttered, trying to focus on Spike who leaned against his cage, staring at him. “God, she….” Connor broke off, shuddering.

“Don’t think about it, kid. You have bigger problems.” Spike nodded to the closed cage door. “She might not realize you need food and water…and a waste bucket.”

Connor drew in a ragged breath, wanting to break down but he wouldn’t, not in front of a vampire. “What does she want from me?”

“Exactly what she said, a little hell baby. She thinks she’s meant to have a child who can open dimensions. I think she wants to go back home.” He sighed. “I think she’s read a prophecy wrong because that baby’s been born already but Blue can’t know about her.”

“But if that’s true then she can stop….” Connor wet his lips, averting his gaze. “Stop doing this to me.”

“Kid, I would protect that girl til the day I’m dust. No one gets to touch that girl! Sorry, you’re going to have to bear up. Here.” Spike pushed a blanket through his bars. “I won’t suffer the cold as bad as you.”

Forcing back the nausea, Connor shoved his arm through his bars, barely able to snag the offering. He yanked it through and put it over his hips. His clothing was nowhere to be seen, his weapons gone or broken. “Thanks. But you don’t have to tell her who, just tell her she’s wrong about the prophecy.”

“Already tried. She’s not listening.” Spike narrowed his eyes. “You can’t be Peaches’ kid. That’s impossible.”

Connor snorted. “You call Angel Peaches?”

“Yeah, pisses him right off.” Spike smirked but it faltered. “He’s gone now.”

“I know.” He laid back down against the cold floor. “Angel and Darla are my parents. I’m not sure how or why, just that I’m a miracle.” He air quoted that. 

“Huh, really? Hard to believe but I guess I can see a little of Darla in your face. You look nothing like Daddy, do you?”

“Nope. At least I don’t have that dead groundhog thing going on in the hair department.” Connor didn’t know how he was joking, but it was that or scream and cry. “Guess I should have listened to Clem and not come here.”

“Yeah, he warned me too and now we’re both captive. She’ll be back for you, you know.”

Spike sounded almost sympathetic, something Connor didn’t expect from a vampire. He didn’t want to think about it because he already assumed she would be if she thought she was getting pregnant by him. He didn’t like his chances of getting out of this now. Connor couldn’t think on it. It was bad enough what Illyria had done to him, but to know Spike had witnessed it all made it even more violating. “I know.” He sighed. All he could do now was learn more about the vampire in the cage. If he escaped here, Spike would probably have to help, and it was better to know an ally than not. “How did you know Dad? I remember you from Wolfram and Hart.”

“I’m his grandson in the way vampires usually do the reproducing business.” Spike shrugged. “Guess I’m your nephew.”

“Perfect. More vampires in the family.” Connor sighed again.

“She said you were a demon lord. How’d that happen?”

“It’s news to me. But I did grow up in Quor-Toth.” Connor wrinkled his nose. “I guess most things there feared me.”

“Damn. Sort of impressive. Guess that’s exactly what I’d expect of family.” Spike grinned. “We’re hell on wheels usually.”

“Now we’re caged and prey, and Mom and Dad are gone.” His voice hitched.

“We’ll get out of here…somehow. I always find a way,” Spike said but his confidence didn’t show in his voice. He grimaced, turning toward the door.

Connor heard just the faintest of foot falls this time. Illyria came in still looking just enough like Fred to break his heart. 

“How long does it take for this one to work?” She directed that to Spike but she pointed at Connor.

“Again, Blue, human bodies don’t get pregnant every time but you need to let him recover a bit or you’ll kill him before you get what you want,” Spike said, trying to drive her off. “And he needs warm blankets because he’s still alive, unlike me. And food and water and a place to do his business. You might be kind and bring some toilet paper too. And oh, how about putting a TV in the corner. It’s crazy boring in here.”

Illyria glanced at Spike, blankly then blinked slowly. “That one doesn’t like tomatoes.”

“No, I don’t,” Connor said, levering himself up into a sitting position to feel less vulnerable. His head protested the movement. “Is Fred in there at all?”

“Not anymore,” she replied, her voice flatter than flooring.

“She has some of Fred’s memories but that’s all, kid. You knew her too I guess?”

Connor nodded. “She took care of me one summer.”

“I will need a minion to care for you,” Illyria said to Connor. “I will return with one.” 

With that Illyria was gone. Connor shuddered. “I’m afraid to know what that means.”

“That you’re going to be here a while. Tell me you told someone you were coming here.”

“Just Clem.”

“Great. This place has a hellmouth so lie to me and say there’s a Slayer looking for the God-King.”

“As far as I know, the Slayer left or was killed. I was the only one looking for Illyria, and now I’m here.” Connor kicked the bars, regretting it. It made the pounding in his head so bad he gagged.

“Easy there, little uncle. You probably have a concussion, and if you inherited Angel’s brains, you don’t have much to lose to begin with.” Spike grinned viciously.

Connor stuck up his middle finger. “I wish I could argue that but Dad made a lot of dubious choices.”

“That’s our Angel.”

“I’m not letting her touch me again,” Connor said, determined to fight Illyria if she returned for another round.

“You can try. I tried. I lost.”

“Yeah. So now what? Anyone looking for you besides Clem?” 

Spike shrugged. “Maybe the Slayer will wonder what happened to me and try to track me down. Could be Drusilla will get a vision and come for me but she would have no chance against Illyria.”

“Drusilla?”

“My creator, your daddy’s daughter by the usual means. Nuttier than a Cadbury Picnic bar but she’s a seer. Who knows? We’re not completely beaten yet.”

If a wrinkly demon, an insane vampire and maybe, just maybe a Slayer or two looking for them was all they had to hope for, Connor saw not much hope in his future. He would have to plan his own rescue. Later. When he wasn’t concussed. 

“Hey, kid.”

“Name’s Connor,” he said, hoping Spike wasn’t going to be like Gunn and Lorne, always with the insipid nicknames. 

“Yeah, kid, I know.” Spike tapped his cage “Just wanted to say, nice dragon.”

Connor smiled, touching his arm. “Thanks.” At least he wasn’t alone in his captivity. Together, they might just have a chance at escape. Now that was something to hope for.


End file.
